


That Which Is Mine

by alkjira



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Spoilers for Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ring does not corrupt Bilbo quickly. But even water can hollow out stone, little by little, drop by drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finished and will be posted in its entirety today/tomorrow.
> 
> I would call this a companion fic to And Be One Traveler  
> If two roads diverged, this would be the other one. And the point of divergence is at the end of BoFA.
> 
> I’d also call this a companion to diemarysues’ Long Live The King. It's a bit like One Traveler and her fic had a baby. Sort of.  
> Probably not really, lol.  
> But yeah. It would be a sinister sort of baby at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating is for themes and not for sexual content.

Bilbo thought that he’d lost his mind when he heard the whisper, but that did not really surprise him. What was the loss of a mind when he’d already lost his heart.  
  
‘Would you like to save him?’  
  
He knew that he had to be imagining things because there was no one with him on the top of the hill. There was no one around who could have spoken to him.  
  
‘I can help you save him.’  
  
It was just him, and- and Thorin. And Thorin- he’d never- he would never speak again.  
  
Stifling a sob Bilbo hid his face against Thorin’s chest. It wasn’t _fair_.  
  
‘His nephews too. We can save them.’  
  
“Shut up,” Bilbo mumbled. “You’re not real. I’m- I’m going crazy.”  
  
‘I assure you, I’m quite real.’  
  
The thing was, the voice sounded so… certain. So calm, and focused and _peaceful_. Even comforting. Like there really was a way to fix everything. Like everything would be all right.  
  
And even if it was just some part of his imagination, Bilbo wanted to badly to believe it. Perhaps it _was_ real. How could it be part of him when there was absolutely nothing left of him that felt calm, or peaceful, or like anything would ever, _ever_ , be the least bit okay again.  
  
Bilbo raised his head and looked around the flat empty area at the top of the hill. Indeed, it was entirely empty of life except for him and- except for him. But still there was the voice.  
  
“Are you… a magical spirit?”  
  
He sounded too hopeful even to himself. Like a child. But there were stories. Of strange spirits living in forests, some of them helping young Hobbits who had wandered much too far away from home.  
  
This wasn’t by any means a forest, but Bilbo was definitely far from home.  
  
‘Yes. You could call me that,’ the voice said. ‘I do not really have a spirit of my own, but I am part of the one who made me. And we know magic.’

“Made you?” Bilbo asked.  
  
‘Yes.’ The voice sounded sad. ‘He made me after losing our Lord. We know loss very well indeed, Bilbo Baggins. And I would seek to spare you that feeling. If you would permit me to help.’

Bilbo’s eyes stayed on Thorin’s relaxed face. “Did- did your Lord die?”  
  
‘He is but a shadow now,’ the voice agreed. ‘And we cannot save him as my creator is weakened. But will you let me help you? Before _your_ friend and Lord becomes another shadow? And his nephews two more to follow him?’  
  
“Can you- is it possible?”  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
Bilbo’s hand was not steady when he lifted it to Thorin’s face, gently tracing his fingers over a pale and (much too) cold cheek.  
  
“Please save him. And Fíli. And Kíli. They were not supposed to die. They’d just- they’d just gotten their home back. And the boys were so young. They weren’t-“ Bilbo’s voice broke. “They weren’t supposed to die now.”

‘A life for a life then. Three members of your company died on the battlefield. If not the three you have before you, then who shall it be?’

It took a few long moments before the meaning of those words sank in.

“You would-“ Bilbo felt sick. “I can't trade my friends’ lives just to have Thorin, Fíli and Kíli back. I can't.”  
  
His stomach twisted as the image of a pale and lifeless Bofur, or Dori, or Dwalin flashed before his eyes.  
  
“If that is your help I don’t want it and I will not-“  
  
‘Peace.’ The voice said quietly. ‘I apologise. You misunderstood. It does not have to be one from Thorin Oakenshield’s company. But for your friends to live, there must be an even exchange. For your friends to live I must take the life of three other beings. Would it matter to you which? Even if they weren't your friends?’  
  
“I-“ Bilbo swallowed, his thoughts tumbling over each other in his head.  
  
In the silence that fell there was only the sound of his own heartbeat. “I... I would prefer not to know them.”  
  
Immediately afterwards Bilbo felt more ashamed then he ever could recall being.  
  
Unless…  
  
“Could- could it be Orcs? Or Trolls. Or-“  
  
‘I’m afraid that is not possible.’  
  
Tears now ran freely down Bilbo’s cheeks, making tracks in the dust and dirt.  
  
When the voice next spoke it sounded apologetic.  
  
“Would you still like me to do this? Three lives, of people you would never have met, never have known, in exchange for Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews.’  
  
Hanging his head, as if to avoid meeting the gaze of someone who wasn't even really there, Bilbo drew a shuddering breath and let it out in a whisper. “ _Yes_.”  
  
‘You will need to touch me.’  
  
“Touch you?”  
  
‘The ring you found in the caves. The one who helped you then, and in the forest, and the Elven King’s halls, and against Smaug the Dragon. I would like to help you again, Bilbo Baggins.”  
  
“You are… my ring?”  
  
‘After a fashion,’ came the reply, and it was impossible to _hear_ a smile, but that was the impression Bilbo got.  
  
He fumbled in his pocket, breathing deeply to try and get his shaking fingers to work.  
  
The golden band seemed small and insignificant in his hand. And like a miracle.  
  
“Please,” Bilbo said and blinked away the fresh hot tears that welled up in his eyes. “Please, help them.”

‘As you command.’  
  
-  
  
That was the first time.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (title/quote taken from the Bible of all places, and it’s not nearly as creepy there)


	2. Chapter 2

Only Bilbo had seen Thorin fall. Only Dwalin had touched his fingers to Fíli’s neck and failed to find a heartbeat, and only Tauriel had cradled Kíli’s lifeless body in her arms.  
  
And out of those three only Bilbo knew the truth of what had happened afterwards.  
  
-  
  
Something made Dwalin think that he’d best check again. It was… likely in vain. He’d seen the blade go right through the lad. But-  
  
But imagine his surprise when he found a faint pulse. Slow, so very slow, and weak, but _there_.  
  
Much, much later Óin would declare Fíli the luckiest Dwarf who’d ever lived. It was almost unbelievable how Azog’s blade had managed to miss all of his vital organs.  
  
And if it had not been for the cold it’d likely not mattered anyway as he’d have bled out before Dwalin could get him to a healer.  
  
But indeed he lived. And the speed of his recovery was remarkable.  
  
“Youth,” Óin scoffed, but the relief in his words was impossible to miss.  
  
And only Bilbo knew what really had saved him.  
  
-  
  
As Tauriel’s lips left Kíli’s and a tear rolled down her cheek to land on his, the young Dwarf gasped, and his body jerked and shuddered.  
  
Both Tauriel and the Elven King stared at him in shock, then in awe; on Tauriel’s part, and suspicion; on Thranduil’s.  
  
But as familiar with corruption and shadows as Thranduil had become there was not even a speck of darkness to be found within Kíli’s heart, and when Tauriel’s own wounds would not allow her to do so, the Elven King helped carry the Dwarven prince to healers and safety.  
  
The Orc’s sword must had caught on a rib (Tauriel thought she’d seen… thought she’d felt- but no, she must have been mistaken) but it was still serious, and in the days that followed they did not know if Kíli would live or die. Except for Bilbo.  
  
He knew.  
  
-  
  
“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered the night after the battle, and he whispered into the darkness inside Thorin’s tent.  
  
Only a single candle was still burning, and the shadows were many and all around them were they were curled up together on and under a pile of furs. But the golden-pale flame of the candle was more than enough to keep the shadows at bay.  
  
Next to Bilbo Thorin slept, and his chest rose and fell, slow and steady, and beneath the Hobbit’s hand a strong heart kept beating.  
  
“Oh, _thank_ _you_ ,” he said again, putting his free hand over his chest, where a golden ring on a silver chain rested.  
  


‘You are _most_ welcome, Bilbo Baggins.’  
  
-  
  
It was the first time, but not the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realise now that it was somewhat of an oversight not to make the 101st fic an animal au about dalmatians lol.

Life in Erebor was peaceful.

But even in times of peace accidents can happen. And they did happen.

-

There was an incident in the mines.  
  
Three people were injured, one of them badly. And that person was Bofur.  
  
Bofur, who wasn’t even supposed to be in the mine to begin with. Who had only gone as a favour to the overseer responsible for that section of Erebor’s mining operations, to give an assessment on if it would be safe to expand the shaft any further down.

As Bilbo skidded to a stop inside the healing chambers Óin shook his head even before Bilbo had time to ask the question.  
  
“It doesn’t look good.”  
  
Bilbo stayed with Bofur, nestled in between Bombur and Bifur, until Thorin came for him.  
  
“He was the first one of you to be nice to me,” Bilbo said once they were back in their chambers. “I mean, he started that stupid song and what he said about Dragons clearly wasn’t- but, he’s my _friend_.”  
  
“I know,” Thorin said and wrapped his arms around Bilbo.  
  
-  
  
Long after they’d gone to bed and Thorin’s breathing had evened out Bilbo was still awake, rubbing his thumb along the smooth edge of his ring.

‘There is always need for an even exchange.’  
  
“I know.”  
  
-

The overseer did not return from his next venture into the mines.  
  
Bofur recovered without any lasting discomforts.  
  
-  
  
The next winter a severe sickness spread through the mountain.  
  
It started as a tickle in the throat, then a cough, and the cough would then get worse and worse until the sick person could neither sleep nor eat, and then their lungs would begin to fail.  
  
Dwarfs very rarely got sick, and it was said to be a curse left by the Dragon.  
  
Thorin did not let Bilbo out of his sight and flinched every time Bilbo as much as cleared his throat.  
  
But whatever the disease was it seemed as if it did not wish to bother with Hobbits, instead came the day when Dwalin came to talk to Thorin before a meeting and mid-conversation he coughed.  
  
And coughed again. And again.  
  
The next day he could hardly speak for the rattling fits that shook his body.  
  
They were not supposed to spend any time with the sick people, for fear of the disease spreading, but Dwalin was not just Thorin’s friend, he was Bilbo’s friend too. They’d come a long, long way from Dwalin rudely eating Bilbo’s dinner.  
  
Balin was sitting by Dwalin’s bed side when Bilbo snuck into the room, invisible thanks to his ring. The older Dwarf was asleep, but even in sleep his expression was distressed, and there was a wary tension to his muscles that hurt Bilbo’s heart almost as much as seeing Dwalin did.  
  
Dwalin looked to be awake, the coughs coming relentlessly, but he wasn’t really in any shape to notice Bilbo even if he’d not been concealed by his ring.  
  
Bilbo had not been there for long when Nori joined them, bringing a bowl filled with sharp smelling green mush that he proceeded to smear all over Dwalin’s bare chest.  
  
“This is _not_ going to be what kills you,” Nori said, and his voice was even and controlled in all the ways his hair wasn’t.  
  
The normally neat peaks were gone, and instead Nori’s long auburn hair had been collected in a single messy braid, locks escaping it at every opportunity, and his beard held no braids at all.  
  
He didn’t see when Bilbo left just as he’d not noticed him being in the room in the first place.  
  
-  
  
“Could you-“ Bilbo whispered as he crept through the hallways, but the question did not really have time to leave his lips before it received its reply.  
  
‘Yes,’ the ring replied. ‘But-“  
  
“And even exchange, yes, yes.”  
  
Bilbo bit his bottom lip and thought about some nameless, faceless Dwarf lying lifeless and pale and the image made his stomach turn. But then he thought about Nori and Dwalin and Balin and Dwalin and how it would feel if it was Thorin, or Bofur lying in a bed and waiting to die. How it had _felt_ when they were _had_ almost been lost to him.   
  
-  
  
The cough persisted only for three days and on the fourth Dwalin’s breaths came easily once more.  
  
-  
  
When Balin also began to cough the decision didn’t take as long to make.  
  
Go down a new path often enough and soon your tracks will begin to be visible on the ground. It will be easier each time you travel on it.


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s fine,” was the first thing Dwalin said as he entered Bilbo’ and Thorin’s chambers without even bothering to knock.  
  
“I’m sorry?” Bilbo asked, looking up from the book he’d been reading.  
  
“He’s fine, but someone tried to kill Thorin just now.”  
  
“ _What_!?”  
  
“I said he’s fine.”  
  
Bilbo’s mouth opened and closed but no words made it past his lips for a long while.  
  
“Did you catch them?”  
  
Dwalin’s expression had not been a particularly pleased one before, but now the frown deepened.  
  
“Only one. And he’s not talking.”  
  
“Why? You need to-“  
  
“I mean, he’s dead.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged. “The others escaped before we could get to them. Fíli killed the one not bothering to make any dramatic speeches, the one who went straight for Thorin. Good to know that those little knives of his can actually come in handy. Looks like they counted on no one bringing axes or swords to a trade meeting. But it’s damned inconvenient to question someone with three blades sticking out of their head.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged again. “Thought I’d tell you before you heard any rumours.”  
  
“Thank you,” Bilbo said faintly.  
  
“He’ll be home for dinner.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
"Did I mentioned that he's fine? You look a bit pale."  
  
-  
  
‘There are others harbouring such thoughts.’  
  
“But why would anyone want to kill Thorin?” Bilbo did not doubt the ring, or Dwalin’s words, but he did not _understand_.  
  
‘Some people fear those who have power. Our master was feared. And then forced from this world.’  
  
“I won’t let them kill him,” Bilbo said. “I _won’t_.”  
  
-  
  
A day later and the guards still had not found them.  
  
“Could we- Do you know where they are?”  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
“Can we.. if they try again they could actually hurt Thorin. Perhaps even…” Bilbo trailed off. “Could you kill them?”  
  
Fíli had already killed one of them, and that had been the right thing to do. When the others were caught they’d have a trial and if found guilty, and Bilbo did not doubt that they would indeed be found very guilty, they would be hanged for treason.  
  
They were already dead, in a way.  
  
‘Would you not like to keep them?’  
  
The ring’s quiet question broke Bilbo out of his contemplations. “Keep them?”  
  
‘The next time an even exchange is required. If it is needed, their lives could be given for the lives of your friends.’  
  
“But… if we leave them. They could try and kill Thorin again. Or Fíli and Kíli.”  
  
They were also at risk, Bilbo figured, because as Thorin’s heirs they also held a not insignificant amount of power. And if people were stupid enough to think that Thorin would misuse his power as King, perhaps they were stupid enough to think that two boys as sweet as Fíli and Kíli would do the same.  
  
‘They could,’ his ring agreed.  
  
And that was that.  
  
-  
  
There were no more attempts on Thorin’s life, and Bilbo did not even think to question that the ring seemed so sure that there would be further need for ‘exchanges’ in the future.

And Bilbo also did not question that while his ring did not have the power to give life without the need for a life in return, it seemed to have no issue at all taking one without the need to give one back.  
  
And despite having had the ring in his possession for more than three years at this point, Bilbo never once asked himself why he’d not told anyone else about it. Or about the spirit that lived inside of it.  
  
It all seemed... like how things should be.


	5. Chapter 5

“This is our chance to take it back,” Dáin said. “Before the Orcs have time to infest it again. You heard the Elves.”  
  
“And why do you think they’ve not already scurried back to Gundabad like cockroaches fleeing from light?” Thorin asked.  
  
“Because no one has _seen_ it,” Dáin said and smashed his fist down at the table. “We got almost all of the scum that fought against us. And there have been no sightings of Orcs travelling north from the Misty Mountains. South? Yes. But not north."  
  
“What if they’ve gone underground again?” Balin asked, shaking his head. "And they've gone north without your scouts seeing them."  
  
“Gundabad is a sacred place,” one of Daín’s generals said, one Bilbo did not know the name of. He was a bit pompous, but he liked tea so he couldn't be all bad.  
  
“Not sacred enough to die for,” Dwalin said and folded his arms over his chest. “Our people do not want, or need, another war.”  
  
“This would not be a war,” Dáin argued. “We’ve taken Mount Gundabad back before.”  
  
“And lost it too.”  
  
“What is your opinion?” Thorin murmured to Bilbo.  
  
“Perhaps it’s wise not to-“  
  
‘Gundabad is almost void of Orcs.’  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bilbo said, blinking a few times. “I was about to say, if you have an infestation of some sort in your garden, wasps maybe, then it is best to make sure you clear out the nest. Otherwise you’ll keep having the same problem over and over again.”  
  
He only became aware that he’d been speaking a little too loudly when he noticed everyone’s eyes on him.  
  
“Wasps?” Dáin’s general and Dwalin echoed, giving each other sour looks upon discovering that they were agreeing about something.  
  
“I think our lovely-" Dáin made a face. "I can't say _our_ lovely consort without making it sound like he's tupping all of us. Did you figure out a proper title for him yet, cousin?"  
  
Thorin sighed.  
  
"You can just call me Bilbo," Bilbo suggested.  
  
"Then I think our lovely Bilbo is agreeing with me,” Dáin said somewhat smugly. "Wasps are the ones that sting, right?"  
  
Bilbo nodded.  
  
"Bloody hate those."  
  
-  
  
Within six months Mount Gundabad was once again cleansed, and for the first time in more than one and a half century the place of Durin the Deathless' awakening was once more in Dwarven hands.  
  
-

After Gundabad the next obvious step was to reclaim Moria. It seemed to Bilbo that surely much of Azog’s forces must have come from Moria as well? Was that not the place the white Orc had claimed for himself?

The ring agreed with him.  
  
“I’d not expected this suggestion from you,” Thorin said when Bilbo first brought it up. “A Hobbit who council war?”  
  
“Wasps,” Bilbo reminded and nudged Thorin’s side.  
  
He’d never liked wasps.  
  
-  
  
Scouts were dispatched, and they returned, and the same year as Bilbo turned 60 Moria was once again Khazad-dûm.  
  
It had taken some... convincing, before everyone agreed that it was worth the potential risk, but it wasn't as if Bilbo could just tell everyone that he had a magical ring with reliable information. It would have sounded crazy.  
  
No, it was better like this.  
  
-

After the battle Dwalin had muttered about things being a little too easy, but Bilbo thought that a _lack_ of Orcs was nothing to complain about.  
  
And look how happy the victory made everyone. Well, almost everyone.  
  
Thorin had intended to have Dís take the throne but she refused even before he could offer.  
  
“I know I was just a child during the Battle of Azanulbizar,” she said. “But I remember that more than just Orcs dwelt inside Moria.”  
  
“Khazad-dûm,” Thorin corrected but Dís shook her head.  
  
“No, and I won’t be Queen of the Black Chasm. And my sons will not be Lords.”  
  
Bilbo hid a huff of annoyance. “There is nothing dangerous in those halls.”  
  
“And how would you know?” Dís challenged.  
  
For that Bilbo had no answer to give. He couldn’t tell Dís about the ring.  
  
He didn’t ask himself why he _still_ couldn’t tell.  
  
-

Within the year Fíli was crowned King of Erebor, and Thorin and Bilbo settled in Khazad-dûm, against Dís’ wishes.  
  
In the very first month they almost lost Ori when a floor collapsed in the library. Bilbo was with him at the time, and no one but him ever knew that Ori’s chest had been almost entirely crushed by a bookcase. The blood in Ori’s mouth? Oh, he must have bit the inside of his cheek when he fell.  
  
The guard that Thorin insisted that Bilbo bring at all times… he wasn’t as lucky as Ori.  
  
Very sad. But accidents did happen, and Bilbo promised Thorin that he would not visit the library again until it was deemed safe.  
  
Bilbo had not expected to like Khazad-dûm, but there was something about the underground city that pleased him in a way that Erebor had never done.  
  
There was something… no he could not find the words for it. But in Erebor he’d found it rather unsettling to have to walk across certain bridges (why, oh why both Dwarfs and Elves seemed to have such a distaste for handrails he would never figure out) and on the occasions when he accidentally glanced downwards his knees had immediately begun to suggest that he better sit down before they took the decision for him.  
  
But not so in Khazad-dûm.  
  
It was even comforting in a way, too look down into the darkness.  
  
Sometimes Bilbo even imagined he saw a glint of gold deep, deep down, and it brought a smile to his lips as it reminded him of his ring.  



	6. Chapter 6

‘My creator would like to thank you.’  
  
“Thank me?” Bilbo murmured, stroking his fingers through Thorin’s hair. His husband was asleep, and as long as Bilbo kept his voice soft he would not wake.  
  
‘As I told you when we first spoke, I am part of him. Through me he knows you. And he has grown fond of you. He has learnt many things.’  
  
Bilbo snorted. “I’d say that I’ve gotten the better end of the deal.”  
  
A thought occurred to him and the Hobbit frowned, only realising that he’d tightened the hand in Thorin’s hair into a fist when his Dwarf mumbled something in his sleep and sighed.  
  
“Does he want me to return you to him?”  
  
‘No. He only wishes to thank you. He is weak, so he cannot travel. But he will send an emissary. Please do not be alarmed by his appearance.’   
  
Alarmed?  
  
Over the years Bilbo had come to believe that the ring’s creator had to have been a Dwarf.   
  
It could not be a Man because during one of their nightly conversations the spirit had told him the ring had been created even before Bilbo's parents had been born, and Men simply did not live that long. And it could not be an Elf because like Thorin the spirit seemed to have little fondness for them.   
  
And then there'd been the suggestions to reclaim Gundabad and Khazad-dûm. Which also fit very well with someone thinking like a Dwarf, and someone who had no fondness of Orcs either. Not that Bilbo had considered that the creator could have been an Orc, that would have bee entirely too farfetched.  
  
Bilbo did not know what sort of messenger a Dwarf would send that would alarm him, but he supposed that if he’d met Dáin or Dwalin on a dark night in the Shire he’d run home as quickly as his legs would have carried him. At least that was what could have happened before his little adventure.  
  
Gandalf had really been right. He was really not the same now as he’d been that night in Bag End. But he’d say that it was definitely a change for the better.  
  
-  
  
A week later the ring let Bilbo know that his creator’s messenger would be waiting for him some distance away from the eastern gate, if he’d like to meet with him.  
  
There was no way he could sneak out of the mountain without anyone noticing, and if he went _without_ telling Thorin what he was going to do… well, it was possible that Thorin would like that even less than if Bilbo told him he was going to meet the envoy of some Lord neither of them had ever heard of but who was apparently very good at magic, and had Bilbo mentioned a certain golden ring?  
  
All right, maybe he would prefer not to know.

What Bilbo did was to tell Thorin he wanted to stretch his legs and get some sun and fresh air. Which, that was another thing that was strange with their new home.  
  
In Erebor Bilbo had felt the need to go our onto the balconies fairly often, or to take a walk down to Dale, but he just didn’t feel the same urge in Khazad-dûm, which was rather practical as he was pretty sure that there weren’t actually any balconies around. Nor any cities of Men.  
  
Sometimes he went to the lake outside the west gate. Swimming wasn't something that interested him, but he rather liked walking along the lakeside. It was peaceful.

-  
  
Thorin decided that two guards was enough to keep him safe, as Bilbo had promised not to go far, and with the ring’s assistance it was easy enough to make them fall asleep a small distance away from the agreed upon meeting place.  
  
The person waiting for him… it couldn’t be a Dwarf as he, or she, was much too tall. But perhaps that had been what the ring had meant about him not needing to be alarmed.  
  
Bilbo raised his hand in greeting as he trotted towards the small outcrop of rock that the messenger was standing under. The shadows made it hard to see any details, especially since the Man (it had to be a Man) was clad all in black, but that the person raised their own hand in reply was clear enough and Bilbo smiled and quickened his pace.  
  
As long as he didn't have to give away his ring he was looking forward to know a little bit more about its creator.

  
-  
  
  
When Bilbo walked back into mountain a trick of the light made it seem as if his eyes glowed gold for a moment, but it was just the light from the torches.

Dismissing the guards following him the Hobbit went to find his husband, finding him in the throne room.  
  
Bilbo nodded at the other Dwarfs gathered there before approaching Thorin where he was sitting on the larger of the two thrones in the room.  
  
Putting his hand lightly on Thorin’s chest Bilbo smiled and leaned in to whisper something in his husband's ear.   
  
Someone who was watching closely might have seen a flash of gold amidst the pale blue of the Dwarf’s eyes, but it was just a trick of the light as well.   
  
Nothing to be concerned about.  
  
Nothing at all.  



	7. Chapter 7

Orcs fought well but it had been proven time and time again that they did not fight as well as Dwarfs.   
  
And while they were not any wiser than most, it had been a terrible oversight to think that Hobbits were merely soft and useless creatures.  
  
Clearly they had their uses.  
  
Yes. It was time for something new. A new Age. Full of possibilities.   
  
Perhaps it had been a mistake of Morgoth to use Elves before.  
  
This place... Yes. It would be a nice start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to discuss this story you know where to find me :)  
> I think my general idea was: The Ring being NICE to Bilbo. Basically earning his trust.

**Author's Note:**

> _"Give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, give unto god the things that are god's, and give unto me that which is mine."_


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